


The Impossible Habit to Break

by pennysparkle



Category: Persona 4
Genre: Crushes, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-23
Updated: 2015-02-23
Packaged: 2018-03-14 19:45:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3423314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pennysparkle/pseuds/pennysparkle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just because you have feelings for someone doesn’t mean they’ll feel them back. Sometimes they won’t even be nice about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> for [fikkachu](http://fikkachu.tumblr.com)!

Adachi doesn’t have large hands. Souji notices that, for some reason, as he watches his fingers curl around the coin held in the center of his palm, then open again to show a blank space. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see how Adachi grins sheepishly at the delighted noise Nanako makes, but for the most part, he keeps his gaze on the narrow expanse of his hand. Long fingers, knuckles that aren’t particularly prominent, and nails that seem to be kept trimmed. They’re nice.

He’s been staring, but the realization doesn’t come upon him until Adachi clears his throat nervously. Beside him, Nanako tentatively prompts him with a, “Big bro? … Did you check your pocket?”

He startles, quickly dipping his hand into it to curl around a 500 yen coin. If it was there before, he hadn’t taken note of it, and he pulls it out to display to both Nanako and Adachi. She makes that almost-surprised sound of glee again, and Souji smiles at her gently before his eyes are once more drawn to Adachi. He’s giving her a similar look; for some reason, it makes a twinge of fondness bolt through Souji’s chest.

It’s not a look he’s ever seen on Adachi before, but it’s nice, too, and he keeps thinking back to it throughout dinner, causing him to smile in belated reaction—because what Souji has gathered is that Inaba is lonely for Adachi. Maybe that’s why he’s always so persistent about getting him to spend time with them. But it’s not really normal, is it? So much seems to hinge on hearing him say yes, and he gets too happy just to see Adachi and talk to him. It’s not like that with anyone else.

To think, he’d come here with the intentions of staying disattached from people, and not only ended up with a group of friends that he cares so much for, but developed an embarrassingly puppyish crush, too.

He can’t help it, though. He can’t help the happiness he feels at finally glimpsing something deeper in Adachi, nor the urge to spend time getting stronger and stronger. And he’s getting forward about it too, asking Adachi for help with the dishes after Nanako has been put to bed, when all logic points to letting him leave—especially with how strange he keeps saying it is for them to be all alone like this. It doesn’t take more than the offer of a can of Dojima’s beer to get him to agree, so he counts that as a win.

“Adachi-san… do you want leftovers to take home?” he asks, hands dug deep into soapy water as he scrubs at a bowl. Adachi doesn’t have a girlfriend, he knows that much. And he remembers him saying something about being exhausted after work, too. It’s the nice thing to do.

“Huh? Oh… you don’t have to do that. I bought the nice ramen this week!”

“That’s not really healthy…” Souji chides.

“Hey, what are you? My mom or my wife?” Adachi laughs, reaching out to take the bowl from Souji’s slippery hands before rubbing a dishtowel over its surface.

“Nothing like that.” This all feels too domestic, and Souji revels in it more than is proper. He should feel guilty about it, but instead he just leans a little closer. For now, the small things are fine. Even if they make him hope a little too much.


	2. Chapter 2

Lately, Souji doesn’t like being home much. Somehow the emptiness makes the cold seem worse, like it’s permeating all the cracks where Nanako and Dojima should be and making itself comfortable there. Then again, he doesn’t particularly enjoy the hospital, either, and his friends are always giving him hesitant looks, like they’re afraid to remind him of that situation. As if he can stop thinking about it.

There’s nowhere he can really turn to forget about it, and most nights he ends up at the hospital anyway, drifting between Dojima and Nanako’s rooms in the hopes that _some_ good news will turn up from one end. It’s quiet, and he feels guilty for wishing they didn’t need all that rest to get better. They’re his family, though. All this time, they’ve taken care of him, accepted them into their hearts, and it feels strange to be void of that. He wonders if that’s how it’ll be when he goes back to Tokyo in a few months.

“Doji— oh. Hey, Souji-kun.” The familiar voice of Adachi pulls him from his thoughts, and even in a time like this, Souji practically strains his neck with how fast he whips it around.

“Ah… Sorry, did I scare you?” Adachi asks, chuckling nervously as he rubs at his neck.

“… No. It’s fine.”

“Geez. You’re over here a lot these days. It’s okay to leave them alone every now and then, right? Enjoy your freedom!”

Souji grimaces, and that just makes Adachi laugh again.

“Come on. I’ll get you something from the vending machines, okay?”

He puts up a protest at first—not wanting to leave Dojima alone, but guiltily wanting to spend time with Adachi too. Soon they’re perusing the vending machines together, Adachi’s shoulder brushing against Souji’s, and when they have a can of coffee apiece and a small package of cookies for Souji, they move back to sit on one of the benches in the hallway.

Adachi seems tired, now that Souji takes a closer look. There’s bags under his eyes, and he yawns as he cracks open his can.

“Adachi-san… are you getting enough rest?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah! I’m fine!”

Souji doubts that. But by now he knows the kind of answer he’ll get if he brings it up again—that he worries too much, that he’s being a mother hen.

“What about you? You’re not looking so good.”

It’s hard to sleep when the house is silent. The dreams about not being able to save people are getting worse. His schoolwork is slipping. Those aren’t things he can say, though.

“I’m fine,” he lies, even though his eyelids are drooping. He slumps a little to the side, cheek falling against Adachi’s shoulder. He doesn’t push Souji off, so he feels free to stay there in silence—because this is the only place he’s felt safe, lately, and no matter how guilty he should be, he’s greedily soaking in the warmth of Adachi’s skin underneath his scratchy suit jacket.

“Adachi-san… please come stay with me,” he murmurs. It feels like a dream, and maybe it is, because Adachi doesn’t reply to him. He just leans his head against Souji’s with a sigh, like it pains him to do so, and the only sound between them again is the beep of a monitor somewhere close by.


	3. Chapter 3

What Souji had told them was that they would confront Adachi together, but even from the start, he hadn’t intended to hold to that. And while part of him is glad that they don’t have to see this, at least if they’d been here, he would have been able to keep from blurting it out. He would have been able to tamp it down, keep it hidden, and maybe someday forget.

In truth, he’s always known the kind of answer he’d get. That’s why he’d never brought it up, why he’d never tried his luck on the chance that Adachi would return his feelings. From the start, he’d known it would be silly to get his hopes up, but in this moment, he can’t keep from using every possible weapon to get Adachi to change his mind. To show remorse. To prove to Souji that he wasn’t wrong in thinking how good Adachi was.

He just doesn’t mean to tell him he loves him. But here he is, having said it, and now he’s only getting laughter in response.

“What’s a kid like you know about _that_?”

Souji doesn’t know what to say. He’s partially horrified, but what does he know about it? Aside from that he feels happy and peaceful being near Adachi; that the desire to be close to him is stronger than it’s ever been with _anyone_ ; that all he can think about sometimes when he sees Adachi is the desire to lean in and kiss him, brush his lips apart and let himself inside to stay; that he’s fantasized way too many times about something as silly as waking up next to him, making breakfast for him, getting to hold and be held by him; and that right now, it feels like his heart is crumbling inside his chest and dropping into some bottomless pit.

“I just do. I know what I feel. I know you’re better than this.”

“You’re the dumbest kid I’ve ever met!”

“Adachi-san… It couldn’t all have been a lie.”

“Aaah? _What_ couldn’t have been a lie? All the times I gave you something little to obsess about? So that you’d keep clinging on to those feelings? I only did those things because I knew I could keep you wrapped around my finger!”

“That’s a lie. You couldn’t have known from the start… I didn’t fall for you for no reason.”

“ _You_ were the one stupid enough to go and do that,” Adachi hisses. “ _You_ brought it on yourself. Don’t blame me for it. You’re just a dumbass kid! What makes you think I’d _ever_ feel that way for you? Get it? So _leave_ , and don’t come back until you’ve got your stupid friends.”

And there it goes. The last little wound that makes Souji draw in on himself—and he was expecting it, of course. But it doesn’t stop him from shattering to pieces when he leaves that room.


	4. Chapter 4

Either Souji has issues letting go, or Adachi did a number on him. He’s probably old enough to admit that now; old enough to see that Adachi wasn’t anywhere near as good as he’d imagined him to be. And yet just because he sees it doesn’t mean he accepts it, doesn’t mean he’s suddenly started hating Adachi. Because he doesn’t. Whatever great heartbreak it had seemed at the time, things are different now.

Mostly what he’d felt in that moment—when Adachi had refused his feelings with far more cruelty than he’d needed to—has receded into an underlying ache that sometimes manifests when he sees someone whose smile is too similar to Adachi’s. Or when he cooks a meal and has too many leftovers. When he can’t fall asleep at night and thinks too much. When he goes back to Inaba to visit, and Dojima brings him up, as is the current case.

He doesn’t know how he’s let his uncle persuade him to do this. He keeps telling himself it has something to do with finally getting some closure, but he knows that’s not what it’s really about. The whole bait and switch—telling Adachi that it was Dojima he’d be seeing today, only for Souji to be sitting in front of him when he comes into the room—it’s underhanded, and he knows it. He agrees because he _wants_ to see Adachi, and it has nothing to do with closure. If three years and the discovery of Adachi’s true nature hasn’t made a difference by now, he knows nothing will.

There’s a strange feeling inside of him as he sits in the uncomfortable chair, waiting. Maybe it’s nervousness, but a part of him is absolutely sure it stems from whichever dark corner of him that’s wanted to see him, even after all of that. It ramps up further when the door open and a familiar slightly-hunched figure steps inside.

Adachi’s face, when he lays eyes on Souji, doesn’t change all that much. And there’s silence until he sits down on the other side of the barrier, picking up the phone with a sigh.

“… What are you doing here, Souji-kun?”

What _is_ he doing here? It’s not like he can say he wanted to see Adachi. He’s tried to become a bit more guarded with what remains of his feelings toward him after that whole incident.

What he settles on is, “Are you not happy to see me, Adachi-san?”

“Aah? What’s that got to do with it? I mean, what do you want?”

“… I just… wanted to see how you were doing,” he admits.

“Geez… you’re still such a good kid.” He sighs, playful wistfulness, then shrugs. “It’s fine here.”

Souji nods. That’s really the only answer he would have expected. No pitying himself. No playing it up, either. “Good.”

He really doesn’t know what to say now, though. There’s something in him, threatening to burst out, and he’s trying so hard to keep it down that he feels choked.

“Was that all? Today is pudding day and I want to be able to get some before they run out…”

“Adachi-san. You meant… that you cared for us, right? In that letter?”

“Huh? I don’t remember. That was a long time ago…”

This fact doesn’t deter Souji. He leans forward insistently, and Adachi must see something in his eyes, because he stays where he is instead of getting up.

“Because I still care for you,” he says fiercely.

“… You’re really still such a kid,” says Adachi. Souji hopes he’s not misinterpreting when he thinks that the small smile forming on his lips is fond. Nostalgic. Maybe it is.

“Can I come back sometime, Adachi-san?”

“Aah? I guess so… Just don’t expect me to listen to you talking about your feelings.”

Souji smiles. It’s not much, but it’s a start. And he knows by now that he’ll never learn.


End file.
